We Met in Darkness
by xXSakuraPhantom
Summary: Erik has just run away from his abusive mother, ready to face whatever horrid fate is waiting for him. But things take a drastic change when he rescues a girl named Cosette. Is she the only one capable of seeing what lies beyond the mask...and the face beyond that? Les Mis/Phantom crossover. Rated T for future content.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hi everyone! This is my first fanfic, so I hope you like it! :D I know it doesn't seem like a lot now, but I'm really hoping to get into this one, so please bear with me. This is a crossover of Phantom of the Opera and Les Mis, and basically explores the idea of what would have happened if the two of them had met as children. This is, of course, happening under the assumption that they lived during the same time and were living close by. But hey~~don't like it? Don't read it.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters or anything. This is a fanfiction, and I'm not making any money off of it, so yeah.

**Feedback: **I like getting constructive criticism, and, of course, praise ^_^, so feel free to gimme some. It helps me improve and makes me want to write more!

CHAPTER ONE

The storm came faster than expected, the raindrops practically screaming as they flung themselves upon the ground, as if they, too, were desperate to end their lives. Erik's flimsy clothes were drenched, and he shivered as he stared at the dark torrent of water swirling beneath the bridge. The river was angry, currents slamming into one another, water spraying up at him like icy fingers beckoning him to his death.

Erik blinked back water, unsure whether it was rain or tears, but most likely a mixture of both. He sighed, but the sound was lost under the rushing river. He looked up, more rain streaming down his face, under the mask, and for a moment, regretted running away from his mother. But then he remembered why.

Better to die out here in the dark, free, then back in that prison they called a house.

House, maybe, but never home. At least, not for him. Erik had always been an outcast there, his own mother banishing him to the attic so as not to look on him. Erik knew his face was hideous, he had seen it in the mirror, and yet he wore the mask. Why couldn't she tolerate him while he wore the mask?

After all, she had made it for him. Erik couldn't recall what it felt like to be without it. The last time he had taken it off when was he was barely five years old, and his mother had punished him so badly that he supposed he still had scars.

But now, alone in the rain, he wondered what the water would feel like if he took off the mask. Besides, if he was going to die, he would rather end his life the way he began it; maskless.

Trembling from the cold and from fear, Erik reached up and untied the strings of the mask, and it fell away, and he laughed. The raindrops that splattered onto the pitted, malformed skin tickled as they ran down his forehead and cheeks. He turned his head skyward and opened his mouth, lolling out his tongue and laughing as the sweet rainwater trickled down his throat.

A particularly nasty spray of water from the river interrupted his reverie, and Erik was once again reminded of the task at hand. He looked down at the river and sighed again. He wasn't scared to die anymore. He knew he was to die sooner or later, and he would rather die at his own hand than someone else's, which he was certain would have been his fate.

Erik shut his eyes tight and slowly started leaning over the edge. The river roared as if in approval, his wet clothes weighing down as if urging him to get on with it. He took in a deep breath, his last, savoring its coolness in his chest, and was ready.

But then, above the roar of the water and the hiss of the rain, Erik heard something. A scream. He opened his eyes and looked around, wondering where it had come from. His heart pounded in his chest. If someone was out there, they might see him.

The mask! He had to put on the mask!

He snatched up the scrap of leather and his fingers worked desperately as he tied to tie the waterlogged strings. The voice screamed again, and Erik could hear the words this time.

"Help! Someone help me!"

The mask in place, Erik looked and saw a girl, scarcely his age, stumbling around in the rain and the wind, desperately close to the riverbank. It was almost as if she could not see where she was going, but the rain wasn't falling hard enough to bother someone's vision.

Erik ran over to her, shouting at her to stop, but the wind picked up and carried his voice away, drowning it amongst the steady rush of the river. When he was close enough, he grabbed her upper arm.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he yelled at her.

She struggled. "Who are you? What are you doing? Where am I?!"

Erik let go of her arm. "You're by the river. Right by the river, actually. Another couple of feet and you would have fallen in."

The girl shivered at his words. Erik supposed it was a combination of the cold and fear.

"You saved me!" her voice was almost breathless, and Erik only understood by reading her lips.

He took a step back. This girl was very pretty. She was young and thin, extremely thin, almost bony, and her hair, which he supposed was flaxen when dry, framed her delicate face in dripping strands. She was probably a few years younger than even he, and yet there was something in her big, bright eyes that made her look older. If angels were indeed real, Erik knew this girl was descended from them.

"I'm Cosette," said the girl, raising her voice against the river, which sounded angry. It had, after all, just been cheated out of two souls.

"Erik," was all Erik could force himself to say. He took another half-step back, cowering slightly. This girl, he could not let her get a good look at him, anxious to get away. He wouldn't let her close. He would only end up hurting her.

"Well, Erik, thank you. Thank you for saving me." Cosette did a little curtsy, a bit clumsily in her sodden clothes, and then smiled, but only for a moment, and then her face was sad again. "I…I should get home, but…I'm scared to go alone…"

Erik was terrified. Was she really going to ask him what he thought she was?

"Will you walk me home? Please?"

_No! _a voice in his head screamed. _No, I certainly will not! People will see me! They'll either kill me or hurt me and send me home to mother, who will either hurt or kill me as well! I won't help you! _

But Cosette's voice and eyes were desperate, and Erik couldn't bring himself to refuse the offer. After all, how often would it be that he would get a chance to be so close to such a pretty girl?

He had promised himself he would be alone forever. But now he was beginning to regret that.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Why was he doing this? Why on earth was he doing this?! The sentence played over and over in Erik's mind as he walked, so absorbed in it that he didn't notice the squishing sounds his soaked shoes were making. The little girl Cosette was walking dangerously close to him. So close that he could feel the heat radiating off of her. She smelled good. Like hay and wildflowers. Erik shoved the thoughts from his mind.

They were heading towards the city. Well, Erik wasn't sure if it was technically a city or not, but it was certainly bigger than his hometown, which was a few homes and a church. He felt trapped. Everywhere he turned was either a building or a person, and Erik didn't like it. He kept his head down, staring at his shoes, which were caked with and oozing mud. He forced himself to watch his feet as they went up, down quite on their own. God only knew where he was heading, and Erik was certain that if he looked up, someone would catch him. It was best to avoid being seeing altogether.

"We're almost there, Erik," said Cosette.

Her voice startled him; he had almost forgotten she was there.

"All right," was his reply, but so many thoughts were buzzing around in his head. What if she noticed the mask? He was sure she hadn't gotten a good enough look at him, seeing as the rain was falling much harder now. Or worse, what if she invited him in? Erik supposed that would mean he would have to run. He had gotten exceptionally talented at running away, he thought bitterly.

"Erik?"

"Yes, mademoiselle?"

"Are you cold? You're shivering."

Erik shrugged. "I'm used to it," he mumbled.

Cosette shivered, almost as if at his voice.

Erik had always found that his voice alone held great power. Almost as much as his face, but the power in his voice was music, not fear. The music that swirled in his mind like a mist, the music that he felt hot in his veins, although he didn't know, at that point, what it was for.

After several more minutes, Cosette grabbed his hand. Erik instinctively recoiled, images of his mother grabbing him by the wrist and punishing him flashing through his mind, but he relaxed when he realized that the hand was small and kind and had no intention of inflicting pain. At least, he thought, not yet.

"This way!" Cosette trilled, her voice like a spring bird. Erik suddenly desperately wanted her to start singing. Certainly such an angelic girl would possess an ethereal voice.

His musings were interrupted when Cosette yanked him down a particularly tight alleyway, and Erik followed her obediently. The rain was falling harder than ever, slashing down to the point where it was stinging the exposed skin on the back of Erik's neck.

Naturally he felt relieved when Cosette lead him to a little door that belonged to a tavern, but before Cosette could open the door, Erik hesitated.

"I walked you here," he said. "Now you're on your own."

"But Erik, you haven't a coat, you're soaked to the skin, and you saved my life! Papa shall want to thank you! Please, Erik?" Her big eyes were bright, and although her voice was pleading, her eyes were sharp. This was not a request, it was a demand.

Erik sighed. "Oh, all right."

Cosette beamed at him and opened the door, skipping inside. Erik trudged in after her, pausing a moment before stepping over the threshold and entering the tavern. He was instantly warmer, and bathed in flickering lantern light. The air was thick with the haze of tobacco smoke, and Erik cowered when a barmaid sauntered by, carrying several bottles of some kind of alcohol. She took no notice of him, and Erik slipped by, eyes darting from person to person.

"Papa is over here." Cosette's voice was right in his ear, and Erik flinched, startled.

She took his hand again, but suddenly her smile faltered. Erik didn't even have to wonder why. In the light of the tavern, out of the rain, Cosette's eyes had finally fallen on the mask. Her head cocked slightly to the side, and her pretty little lips parted as if she were going to ask him about it, but then she shrugged.

"C'mon!" She tugged on his wrist.

Erik took one step forward, feeling sick to his stomach. She may have ignored the mask, but now Cosette was dragging him towards a man sitting in the corner. A man he knew. A man he had seen before, somewhere, although Erik could not place him. That man for certain would have Erik flogged and tossed back out onto the street.

But before he could wrench his wrist away and bolt out the door, Erik found himself standing before the man.

He was impressive, nearing the period some call "old age." The last of his youth had not yet been stolen away, still lingering in the streaks of nut brown in his greying hair and the broad shoulders. Erik's eyes flitted down to the man's hands. They were big and calloused, from years of labor, yet the fingers seemed graceful.

"Cosette!" the man cried, grabbing up the little girl in his big arms. "Oh my goodness, girl, you're soaked! And covered in mud! What am I going to do with you?"

Cosette giggled. "Papa, I got lost, and I almost fell in the river, but Erik saved me!"

"The river? Cosette, I told you to stay in the alleyway! I told you not to wander!"

"I know, Papa, but there was a kitty, and she looked so sad and wet and I wanted to help her."

"Your kindness is going to be the death of you, I swear. You can't take in every stray." The man's eyes suddenly fell on Erik, who quickly lowered his gaze, face alternating between white and red.

"Speaking of strays...who is this?"

"Papa, that's Erik. He's the boy who saved me from falling into the river."

The man lowered Cosette and set her down.

"What a gentleman!" he laughed. "Thank you for saving my little Cosette, son. I'm certain she would have never made it back without you."

"It was my pleasure, sir," he mumbled at his shoes.

"Speak up, boy, and look me in the eyes! I want to thank you properly."

Erik shuffled his feet, and some of the mud that had hardened on his shoes crumbled off onto the floorboards. He slowly looked up into the man's eyes, grateful the majority of his face was covered. Erik was certain his face was green, considering how sick he felt.

The man frowned a moment, contemplating the mask, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Cosette cut him off.

"Papa, I'm hungry."

"Of course you are, darling. But you need a bath first. You look wretched."

The man looked back at Erik, a hint of suspicion still on his face. "You should have one, too. And then get something to eat. You look half starved."

Erik was going to protest. He had to get out of here. Away from the people. Away from this little girl who was making him so disgustingly uncomfortable. But Cosette took his hand again, and gently tugged on it.

"Come on, Erik."

And he simply couldn't resist.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, guys. ;-; I've just finished up with the semester at college, so I have a lot more free time to keep writing. I have the next chunk pretty much written, so mostly I've just been polishing everything up. I hope you guys enjoy! I promise to upload the next chapter sooner. ^_^; Feel free to give me any and all feedback you might have. It helps more than you could know. THANK YOUUU ~3**

Chapter Three

Cosette led Erik up into the room she and her Papa were staying in. it was small and simple, with only two small beds, a desk, two rather ragged-looking armchairs, and a small room off to the side, scarcely larger than a closet, that held a great copper bathtub. The water must have been drawn some time ago, Erik thought, for it was only just about room temperature as he dipped his finger in.

Cosette was watching him closely. Erik backed away from the tub.

"Ladies first," he said. Cosette giggled.

"You're so formal. Just like my papa."

"What is his name, if I may ask?" Erik ignored her comment, unsure if it was a compliment or an insult, and instead skipped to the question that was burning on his mind. Who was that man, and where had he seen him before?

The little girl's lips pinched into a thoughtful frown. "If you want to know, you'll have to ask him," was all that she would say.

Erik nodded, knowing better than to press further. Instead, he turned away, sitting on the floor (he didn't want to soil the armchair), and picking at a knot in the floorboards.

Cosette splashed in the water for at least fifteen minutes, giggling and whispering to herself. Part of Erik was curious as to what she was saying, but he felt no inclination to eavesdrop. His mind wandered to her in the bath, scrubbing away the mud from her skin. Erik shoved the thoughts from his mind, instead focusing on the knot in the floor, picking at it with ragged fingernails.

His torment was ended when Cosette placed a hand on his shoulder. Erik turned to face her, for once grateful that he was wearing a mask. Otherwise, Cosette would have seen red creeping up his face. He had been right; she was far more beautiful all cleaned up. Her golden hair shone like sunlight on ripe wheat, and her eyes shone out from her milky cheeks.

"Your turn!" she said cheerfully.

Erik nodded. Cosette took his place sitting on the floor, playing at Cat's Cradle with a bit of string. Erik quickly stripped off all but the mask and stepped intot he water, scrubbing at all of the mud. When he was certain Cosette wasn't going to be peeking, Erik took off the mask and to wash his face. He scoured the mask as well before putting it back on. He climbed out and dressed in a set of fresh clothes he had brought with him in his knapsack.

Once clean and dressed, Erik walked up to Cosette and cleared his throat.

"I'm finished," he said softly.

Cosette looked up from her string and beamed. "Oh, good! Let's go back downstairs and get something to eat."

She grabbed Erik by the hand again, and this time he closed his fingers around hers. It was a foreign feeling to him, being touched in a kind way, and even stranger still to feel inclined to be touching back. Yet here he was, holding hands with such a perfect little creature.

Erik savored her touch on his skin, no longer feeling guilty for enjoying it. She was touching him of her own free will, after all, and he was content with that. But all such warm feelings were replaced by cold, hard fear when he found himself face to face with Cosette's papa again.

The man was just as kind as his daughter, gesturing for Erik to sit and eat, but Erik was always wary of men. Men were big and harsh and capable of inflicting pain just as easily as they were to offer kindness. Judging by this man's muscularity, Erik suspected he was more than capable to exact pain upon a body with ease. Thankfully, it seemed he was not the kind of man who would use his brawn on a regular basis, let alone use it to hurt others. And he even seemed to have taken a liking to Erik.

"Where are you from, boy?" he asked.

Erik shrugged. "I don't know the name of the town, to be honest, monsieur. I never left home much."

The man made a thoughtful noise. "I see. And who are your parents? Do they know you're gone?"

Erik almost choked trying not to laugh. "My father is dead. He died before I was born. And my mother, Madeleine, is probably giddy with delight that I am no longer home to torment her with my presence. She never cared for me, you see, monsieur, and avoided speaking with me unless to remind me how much of a monster I am and how ashamed of me she was and…" His voice trailed off to a growl.

Cosette looked up from her food. "Monster? Why a monster? You don't seem like a monster to me. Except maybe that mask. Perhaps she was scared of it."

"To the contrary. She made the mask for me, and I have worn it all my life. She calls me monster because…it's what I am."

The girl pulled a face. "Monsters are wicked, and you are not. You saved me from the river."

Erik did not reply, but Cosette's papa chuckled.

"Everyone has wickedness in them, Cosette. What matters is whether or not we act upon that wickedness." Erik coughed on his bread, and the man gave him a thump on the back.

"Thank you, monsieur," Erik rasped, eyes watering. He took a gulp of water before looking at the man again. Yes, yes, it had to be him. Erik was certain of it.

It was Jean Valjean.

The convict.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Once more, I offer my sincerest apologies for the delays in updating. I could make any number of excuses, but I won't. I'll just apologize and hope no one tries to hunt me down and kill me. u As a special treat to reward your patience, I'm uploading the next two chapters. As always, enjoy, my darlings~ 3**

CHAPTER FOUR

For a moment Erik struggled to recall where exactly he had seen Valjean before. Then he remembered. Several months ago, before he had run away, Erik's mother had actually taken him out. It was very early in the morning, and hardly anyone was out, so she decided it was acceptable to allow him out in public.

There had been a man strolling about, hanging up posters warning of a dangerous man who was thought to be in the area. His name was Jean Valjean, prisoner 24601, and he had violated his parole and assaulted an officer of the law. There was also some story going around that he had even posed as the mayor of a town for years. Erik had stared at the artist's rendition of Valjean; grim and haggard, his face full of peculiar and sharp angles.

It was no wonder Erik hadn't recognized him at once. The convict had long since gained a healthy bit of weight, and his hair was thinning. The authorities needed to update their images.

"Erik? Are you feeling all right?"

Erik blinked and shook his head. He must have spaced out for a few moments, because Valjean and Cosette were both watching him, their faces a mixture of amusement and confusion.

"Oh, yes, yes I'm fine. I apologize." Erik dipped his head and looked down, face burning in embarrassment.

Valjean gave a pinched smile. "You look exhausted. Do you have a place to stay?"

"Yes," Erik lied. Truth of the matter was he had nowhere to go. He had planned on being dead already, after all. Part of him had been entertaining the notion of returning to the bridge to finish what he had started. But Valjean seemed to see through his lie.

"Well, I still think you ought to stay here tonight. It isn't safe for a boy your age to be out on the streets. There are dangerous people about at this hour."

Erik was going to protest and point out that he was more than capable of dealing with dangerous people, but he choked the words back when Cosette made an excited sound.

"Oh, yes yes! Erik can have my bed. I don't mind sharing with you, Papa!" Her voice was almost a squeal.

"What do you say, son?" Valjean smiled at Erik, who slowly nodded. "Good. Cosette, let's go up to the room. It's getting late."

Cosette, breathless with excitement, reached out for Erik's hand. He took it and followed behind her, the sick feeling returning to his stomach. He could not help but feel he was wandering into a trap.

Once in the room, Valjean leant Erik one of his shirts to sleep in. It was far too large, the sleeves making his arms look like tentacles and the tails falling to well below his knees.

Cosette made a great fuss over making sure Erik was comfortable in his bed. It annoyed him at first, the way she insisted on fluffing the pillow and straightening the sheets, but a thought came to his head.

Perhaps this was what it was like to have a mother.

Or at least, a mother who loved him.

Erik climbed into the bed and allowed Cosette to tuck him in. She pulled the quilt up to his chin and smoothed the covers with her little white hands. All of this was happening under Valjean's watchful eye, of course.

"Would you like me to sing you a lullaby?" Cosette was smiling broadly.

Erik said nothing and just nodded.

The girl opened her mouth and began to sing. "Hush-a-bye, don't you cry. Go to sleep, my little baby. When you wake, you shall have all the pretty little horses. Dapples and greys, pintos and bays, all the pretty little horses."

Her voice was feather soft and sweet. Erik listened with his eyes closed, allowing her music to roll through him. And then it collided with the music in his blood, and Erik could not stop himself. He opened his mouth and lifted his voice with hers.

"Way down yonder, in the meadow, poor little baby crying mama. Birds and the butterflies flutter 'round his eyes. Poor little baby crying mama."

Erik stopped, silence filling the room like a mist. He had not been aware that Cosette had fallen silent and that it had only been him singing. Valjean and Cosette were both watching him with wide, yet glassy, eyes, and Erik was suddenly aware of redness crawling up his cheeks. Yet again he was grateful he was wearing a mask.

"You…you sounded like an angel," Cosette murmured, her voice breathless. "Are you an angel, Erik?"

He just shook his head, staring down at her little hand, which was resting on the quilt. Her skin seemed to glow gold in the firelight.

"Come, come now. Even angels need sleep." Valjean was smiling when he scooped Cosette into his arms, but he gave Erik a curious look. Not quite suspicious, but it was enough for Erik to retreat further under the blankets.

"Good night, Erik!" Cosette said with a little yawn.

"G-Good night, mademoiselle," he said nervously. "And thank you, m-monsieur, for allowing me to st-stay…"

Valjean gave him a sincere smile. "Of course, dear boy, of course. Sleep well. Don't be afraid to wake me if you need anything."

Erik was only able to give his head a tiny nod and then Valjean carried Cosette over to their own bed, where they both curled up under the blankets. Erik watched them as Cosette snuggled up to her papa's chest, and Valjean put one arm around her, as if protecting her. The way they touched was so gentle. Erik wondered what it would be like to be held like that. Warm, he imagined. He would feel warm and safe. Not to mention wanted.

That was a curious sensation, being wanted. As frightening as it was being alone with these strangers, Erik could not help but feel like they wanted him to be there with him. At least, for the time being. He supposed that their attitude towards him would change drastically if they ever saw the face beneath the mask. Erik subconsciously reached up and touched it, running his fingertips down the cool, smooth, unfeeling surface. For a moment he toyed with the idea of hiding under the blankets and taking it off. But then his mind strayed to something else.

Cosette had called him an angel.

What would she think if she saw him with the face of the Devil?

Erik tightened the knots holding the mask on and rolled over, facing away from Valjean and Cosette. Away from the warmth of the fire and towards a corner of the room shrouded in shadows. Like his heart.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

When Erik opened his eyes, it took him a moment to remember where he was. It was too warm and too bright to be the attic. And then his memory came back. He was in an inn with Cosette and Valjean. He rolled over, stretching his arms and yawning.

Cosette was laying in bed still, curled up in a little ball, eyes closed, little wisps of her golden hair caught in her eyelashes. Her pretty lips were parted slightly, and the morning sunlight shimmered on them as they trembled whenever she let out a breath. Erik climbed out of bed and knelt beside her.

She was so perfect. Like an angel. There were no marks on her pale skin, and her hair was pooled around her head like a halo. Erik's eyes traveled down her face and neck and collar to where one of her little hands rested on top of the blankets. The thin fingers were delicate, and Erik could not stop himself. He reached down and took her hand in his own.

His hands were much bigger, his fingers longer and more elegant. His skin was significantly darker, not to mention riddled with jagged scars and other such marks. He regarded these differences darkly before pushing them from his mind, gazing at Cosette's face once again.

Her lips. They were so soft. He longed to reach down and touch them to his own. He imagined that it would taste good. Like sunshine and wildflowers and happiness.

But instead he just stared at her, drinking in her beauty. Erik gave her hand a slight squeeze, and it could have been his imagination, but he could have sworn that Cosette smiled in her sleep.

"Good morning."

Erik gasped and recoiled, just managing to catch himself on the edge of the bed behind him before falling over. He had forgotten about Valjean, who had been standing in the doorway the whole time, holding a tea tray. His face was hard to read. Erik trembled and swallowed loudly. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to flee. So instead he stared down at his feet, shaking uncontrollably.

"G-g-good m-morning, m-m-m-" he stammered.

Valjean set the tea tray down and approached Erik. This was it. Erik was going to get hurt. He bit down on his tongue, almost hard enough to draw blood, in an attempt to keep himself from crying. Yet his vision swam with tears and his breathing was ragged. He was ready to be hit. He had been beaten before. He knew what it felt like.

When the toes of Valjean's shoes came into his blurred vision, Erik held his breath.

He felt one of the man's big hands rest on his shoulder. Still terrified, Erik opened his eyes and looked up.

Cosette's papa was smiling.

"Relax, son. You're not in trouble," he said.

Erik could not help it now. He began to whimper, tears leaking under the mask. Valjean patted him on the shoulder reassuringly.

"I know you like my little Cosette. And I know she likes you. There is just one thing that concerns me," Valjean said, and although his words were kind, there was a note of sternness there.

"Y-yes, m-monsieur?" Erik choked.

"This." Valjean reached up and put one finger on the mask. Erik's eyes strayed down to his wrist. There were thick scars there, probably from heavy shackles from his years in prison. "This mask you wear."

Erik's eyes shifted to the side. "My mother made it for me." His words were bitter. "Just after I was born."

"Your mother made it? Why?"

"Obviously she did not want to look at me, monsieur."

Valjean cocked his head. "Erik…you're disfigured, aren't you?"

Erik looked at him, horrified. How had the man discovered his secret so quickly? Was part of his face showing?

Valjean must have taken Erik's reaction as a confirmation of his question, because he nodded and looked down. "I see."

Erik took a step away. "I…I…"

"Don't be afraid, Erik, I'm not going to ask you to take the mask off. And I'm not going to judge you based on your face. You are a good boy. You saved my Cosette, and for that I am thankful."

Erik trembled all over again, but this time it was not out of fear.

"You…you are a good man, Monsieur Valjean."

The man's eyes grew wide. "You know my name?"

"I have seen posters," Erik muttered. "But I won't tell anyone who you are. You are the first man to treat me well. Convict or not, you are a good man. I won't tell anyone."

Valjean smiled and pulled Erik into a hug. Erik was startled at first. It was like being crushed, but not in an unpleasant way. The man's arms around him were firm and yet gentle. It was warm and made Erik want to weep with joy.

For the first time in his life, Erik belonged.

Three days later, Erik was still staying with Valjean and Cosette in the inn. Even though he knew these times would be over soon, Erik did not allow that to weigh him down. He was happy, and that was all that mattered.

He and Cosette would play out in the alleyways, chasing stray cats and pretending to be spies, watching people coming and going from hiding places behind rubbish bins and old wooden crates. There were all kinds of people that lived in this town. Rich and poor, kindly and rude, and Erik watched all of them with immense interest.

Even though Valjean forbid either of them from leaving the alleyway, sometimes Erik would sneak out into the town square. That was where all of the people would go, and there were stalls and booths and all other manner of peddlers and merchants.

Erik and Cosette were out doing this one sunny afternoon, wandering about and watching this rich old crone haggle prices over a pair of shoes made for a woman half her age. Suddenly, a man passed them by, and Cosette tugged sharply on Erik's wrist, pulling him behind a milkman's cart.

"Ow, Cosette, what was that for?" Erik demanded.

"Hush, Erik. We can't let him see us." Cosette sounded frightened.

"Can't let who see us?"

"Him."

Erik followed Cosette's finger to a man. He was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in the uniform of an officer of the law. He strode with purpose, his grey eyes sharp from beneath his hat, regarding everyone with obvious disdain, as if they all were beneath him. Only when the man passed by their hiding spot, hands clasped behind his back, would Cosette speak.

"That is Inspector Javert. He has been chasing Papa for some reason. He frightens me."

"Javert…" Erik whispered. "Cosette, if he's after your papa, then we must warn him. You two have got to get out of here."

Cosette nodded furiously. Erik stood and began to sneak out into the crowd, back towards the inn. He was used to moving quickly and stealthily in order to avoid being seen. Cosette, on the other hand, despite her swan-like beauty, possessed the gracefulness of a newborn calf. She stumbled right into a woman carrying a basket of eggs.

Erik groaned as he saw the eggs splatter all over the ground, heard the crunch of shell. Cosette began to sob as the woman began to scold her for being a clumsy little girl.

The scene caught the attention of a certain man.

Javert walked over and spoke to the woman for a moment or two, his voice too low for Erik to hear properly, even though it possessed a sort of music. A music, he thought, that almost matched his own.

Erik dashed forward and grabbed Cosette's wrist.

"Quickly!" he hissed in her ear. "While he's distracted."

Cosette nodded, trembling, and started to run after him.

"Wait!" Javert cried after them. "Stop right there, Cosette!"

Cosette stopped in her tracks. Erik pulled on her wrist, making her run again.

"TELL YOUR FATHER I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN HIM. I WILL FIND HIM!" Javert's voice was powerful. Very powerful. It made even Erik tremble.

Somehow the two of them managed to make it to the inn. Erik ran to Valjean, and seeing as Cosette was sobbing too violently to tell the story, Erik began to tell Valjean all that had happened.

"Javert finally caught up to me, then." Valjean sighed. "Well, I knew he would eventually. Cosette, we're going to be leaving as soon as it gets dark. So pack your things."

"B-but, Papa…"

"No buts, Cosette. We have to get out of here."

"Papa, what about Erik?"

The silence that followed was the longest Erik had ever endured. Even the music that was in his mind seemed to go quiet, and that frightened him more than anything. Eventually Valjean drew in a breath.

"He can either come with us, or he can stay. It's up to you, son."

Erik opened his mouth, but then closed it. Valjean and Cosette were the closest thing he had to a family, and yet he did not know if he should go with them. He reached up and covered his eyes.

"I don't…know," he whispered.

"You have until nightfall." Valjean said. "Until then, Cosette, we have to stay in here. And don't go near the windows."

Cosette nodded, snuggling up to her papa's chest. Erik sat on the floor, staring at the wood. These people were so kind to him, and he cared about them very much. But he could not help but feel like he would be extra weight, especially if Valjean was going to have to keep running like this. And there was his own past to consider.

Erik reached up and tangled his fingers in his hair, trying to think. But he couldn't think. All he could think of was Cosette and her golden hair and soft eyes and her lips. Her pretty little lips.

When he looked up, Cosette was looking at him. Valjean was gone, probably to make the necessary preparations for their flight.

"Erik, I'm frightened." Cosette's eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

"So…so am I…"

"Erik, I'm so, so frightened. Can you hold me, please? You make me feel safe."

Erik opened his mouth to protest, to tell her that he didn't know how to properly hold someone, or that he was capable of being very dangerous, but instead he nodded and opened his arms. Cosette curled up into his lap and Erik wrapped his arms around her.

"Erik, will you sing for me, please?"

He took in a breath. "Yes."

He began to sing, his voice clear and strong, not at all how he was feeling. Music, he thought, was the closest thing that mankind had to magic. And it was living inside of him.

**A/N: So here comes Javert. :D Sorry, but I'm a huge fan of the Javert. He is the lawr, after all. Sorry, had to. ;3 Anyways, I hope I'm doing his character justice. I hope to explore him more in a future fanfic. Yes, I'm planning on writing new ones. Ha. If I can keep up with them all, that is. I have an idea to do a Javerik (Erik x Javert) fic. Thoughts? **


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